Sinner-Saint Box Set (Sinner-Saint Series)

by Roxie Odell

  Thomas’s face flared as he did his best to intimidate her.

  Unfazed and almost entertained by his silence, she continued, “I have nothing but your word that I ran up a ridiculous bill. Twenty-five thousand, my ass,” she bluffed, knowing full well it was probably more.

  “You were there for exactly sixty days, at that pricy hotel, and you didn’t pay for a damn thing, not even the mini-bar you invaded every night. I’ll be glad to fax the records and receipts over to your office. Anything else?” he asked coolly.

  Sixty days? There he goes again, exaggerating. What it is with guys always wanting things to be bigger than they are? she thought, but her eyes involuntarily widened when he mentioned written evidence. Everything was completely out of her control, and on top of that she was anxious someone from inside her former place of employment would see her and question her presence there, right in front of the one on whom she had to play the ruse.

  Thomas leaned over in the seat, till he was super close to her.

  Cheri’s forehead was instantly beaded with sweat, but she tried to play it cool. “So, if I don’t let you take me to and from work and if I don’t eat three squares a day, you’ll have me arrested?” she asked.

  “Not exactly. It’s more that I want you to lay off the sauce and start taking care of yourself, or else.”

  “If it really bothered you so much, you coulda cut the credit cards off anytime.”

  “Yes, I could have,” he agreed with a nod and a smirk.

  “So, why didn’t you?”

  “I didn’t feel like it.”

  “Sounds like consent to me,” she said. “If that’s true, which any court in the land will believe it is, you don’t have anything in hell to lord over me.”

  “You don’t have to pay me a cent back, Cheri. Hell, I won’t even charge you for the work on the house if you’ll promise to walk the straight and narrow from here on out,” he bargained.

  “Fine, but I can’t possibly do that with you around,” she countered.

  “What are you saying?”

  “I’m saying that if you want me to straighten up, you need to leave me alone. No offense, Thomas, but you drive a woman to drink.”

  “Nope,” he said, shaking his head. “I can’t take your word for it.”

  “Look who’s fucking talking!” she snapped, looking around to make sure no one she recognized had heard her. “You wouldn’t send me to prison, would you?”

  “Yes, I guess I would if I had to.”

  “You cold-hearted bastard. If anyone knows what prison is like—”

  “Yeah, yeah. I get it. It’s all my fault, right?”

  “Exactly!”

  “Then let me fix it, baby doll,” he said.

  “Do not fax anything to me at work,” she demanded. “I don’t want anyone knowing my personal business,” she said in a huff, struggling to get out of the truck without falling on her face.

  “Just cut the fucking crap, Cheri,” he said, suddenly squeezing the steering wheel and leaning toward her. “You love me, and I love you. I wasn’t kidding when I said we both need to stay away from the booze. I haven’t had a drink in thirty days. I woke up, and you should, too.”

  “So you got religion and now I have to? Got it,” she said, eager to put the conversation to an end, wanting the heat from his breathing to stop brushing against her face like a caress. “I’ll consider this my come-to-freedom moment if you’ll let go inside!”

  “Cheri,” he said firmly, “be out front later. If your hours change, call me.”

  At that point, she made the mistake of lingering, caught in the bliss of their nearness. Her thoughts went straight to how powerful their passion was. Despite all the problems they had between them, sex was not one of them; for them, that was off the hook, and it seemed to overshadow even the worst of times with an animal magnetism neither of them could control. Cheri knew firsthand what it was like to be on the receiving end of Thomas’s mind-blowing lovemaking, and memories of those intense interludes made her second-guess everything. She knew she could still jump into bed with him anytime she wanted. Am I really willing to give all that up, or will I let him keep making a fool of me over and over again?

  She had never felt so stupid in her life as she stomped away from his truck, still remembering the feel of his hands in her hair that morning, all the while pretending to go to a job she’d been fired from. She was desperate to stand her ground, to assert just a little independence, but she was also desperate for him. Who the hell am I kidding anyway? she thought, wishing he’d pull away so she could cut and run before any of her former co-workers spotted her, wishing Thomas would just leave her alone for good and quit invading her head and heart to the point where she wanted to numb them with whiskey.

  Chapter 3

  Against her better judgment, but forced by Thomas’s glare as he still sat in his parked truck out front, Cheri stepped inside the lobby of her former office building. Immediately, the guard questioned her, but she was glad it was not a familiar watchdog. She quickly made up a story, told him she was just waiting for someone. After a few minutes, she checked her phone and pretended to be at the wrong address, then slipped out the back of the building, paranoid that countless people might be spying on her, Marlene and Thomas among them.

  In spite of her promise to abstain, all roads led to a drink. In an instant, her head was screaming for one. With everything she had just gone through, knowing the predicament she was in, Cheri found herself hardly able to wait for one. In no time at all the lightweight had move up to the hard-core division, and she wasn’t proud of that at all.

  She had never really had much experience with men before, either, not before Thomas, and he was enough experience to last a lifetime. She knew she would never meet a more vibrant, charismatic, gorgeous son-of-a-bitch, not as long as she lived. As irresistible as he was, it felt as if he was breathing down her neck that very minute.

  Cheri jogged a couple blocks to a place called the Oasis, still scared to death she was going to get caught. It was a dimly-lit place, certainly not glamorous or outstanding by any stretch of the imagination, about as inconspicuous as the corner bag lady. The Oasis was definitely not the Four Seasons, but the barkeep didn’t have any problems with her being there, and she was relieved to be swallowed up by the darkness and anonymity.

  The very last and only thing she remembered doing after sitting down at the bar was lifting the shot glass to her lips. When she awoke, she found herself looking up at the stars from the sidewalk in front of her house, in the middle of the night, with rain pouring down on her. Her purse was spilled out all around her, and her head throbbed as it became quite evident that she’d once again lost an entire day to her nasty habit.

  Mercifully, her wallet and keys were still there and within arm’s reach. She all but crawled to the front door and safely made her way inside. She was still drunk but, though her body was crying for sleep, some sober part of her brain was really upset about the truth of her situation. I really do have a problem, she thought, a major fucking problem, and it’s not just Thomas Graham.

  ***

  Cheri didn’t wake again until well past the time she was supposed to be at work. Not only that, but she’d not had the sobriety to show up for his ride-home offer the day before, so that meant Thomas was probably wise to her. With a cup of microwaved coffee in hand, not nearly as delicious as the cuppa joe he always made for her, she peeked out the curtains for some sign of him. Sure enough, he was parked in front of her house.

  Thomas spotted her checking him out and immediately got out.

  “Damn it,” she hissed, plopping down on the couch. “I don’t need this, not now. Can’t he take a fuckin’ hint?”

  He let himself in and stared at her disappointedly. “I came by this morning and knocked, but you didn’t answer. I woulda busted the door down, but I got called about an emergency at a job.”

  “Hmm. I guess that explains why I didn’t wake to find you hovering over
me this morning, like an alarm clock,” she snapped.

  “Are you suggesting it’s my fault you didn’t make it to work?” he asked, a loaded question if there ever was one.

  “Leave me the fuck alone,” she said emphatically, unable to control her speech and to keep the drunkenness out of it.

  A storm gathered in his eyes as he stared at her. “Cheri, I told you—” he began to scold.

  “Yeah, yeah,” she said. “I have a good reason, but I’d rather not get into it.”

  “You’d better get into it!” he yelled with a scowl, then body-blocked her from taking another step.

  “Fine. You want me to explain it, Thomas? You broke my fuckin’ heart and caused me to get fired. I worked my ass off there for eight years, and now I’m gonna have to file for unemployment or start flippin’ burgers till I find something else. There! Are you happy now?” she challenged.

  “Fired? When?” he asked quietly.

  “About six weeks ago,” she replied, looking at him as if it was the stupidest question anyone had ever asked.

  “So yesterday was total bullshit?”

  “Takes total bullshit to know total bullshit,” she accused. “Don’t tell me you didn’t know.”

  An uncomfortable pause fell between them, and Cheri squirmed in her seat as he ordered softly, “Look at me.”

  “No. I really want you to go,” she said.

  “You have a problem,” he said.

  Cheri’s lip quivered, and she couldn’t control it, as hard as she tried. “I’ll figure it out,” she countered.

  “You do that, because the deal still applies,” he said.

  “And what deal would that be?” she asked sarcastically.

  “Straighten up, or I’ll call the cops,” he said.

  “Are you serious, Thomas? This isn’t how rehab works, you asshole. When has putting more pressure on an alcoholic ever made them stop drinking?” she asked.

  “Are you saying you’re an alcoholic?” he asked.

  “You know what I mean, Thomas. People drink because they’re stressed. Adding more stress solves nothing.”

  “Ah,” he said, almost sarcastically. “I see.”

  Another pause pressed down on Cheri, and she didn’t feel well at all. She immediately realized the bitter coffee was not a good idea, and the yelling certainly wasn’t helping. She was at risk of losing it in front of him, and she certainly didn’t want to do that, not her cool or the contents of her sour stomach. “You’re not gonna give me one damn bit of space, are you?” she asked, almost begging. “You claim you want to fix things, but you’re only making everything worse.”

  “I’m sorry to hear that,” he said, with not a tinge of sympathy or apology in his voice.

  “Gee, thanks,” she said skeptically.

  “Where are the keys to your car and your wallet?” he asked, darting his eyes around to look for them.

  “Why?” she asked in a panic.

  “You’re cut off. It takes about five good days to get the booze outta your system.”

  “And who are you, Dr. Drew?”

  “I know because when I realized what I did to you, to us, I also drank like there was no tomorrow,” he said. “I had a helluva time detoxing, but I kicked its ass and so will you.”

  “I just told you I lost my job. I have to find another one,” she argued. “How am I gonna do that without funds or a ride?”

  Thomas stared at her. His eyes were hard, but his lips were curled with amusement. “In hindsight, I guess it was naïve of me to hope you could just be scared off the sauce. You need to detox first, and then you can go look for a job. You certainly can’t go on interviews smelling like you do.” He wrinkled his nose.

  Cheri wasn’t sure what he was trying to do, but his words got to her. She was so, so vulnerable, and everything he said, coupled with his hotness, were like harsh blows to her churning stomach. She was too stunned to cry, but tears were definitely coming, and she could think of no better way to camouflage them than under a stream of water. “I guess I’d better shower,” she said as she got up and turned toward the stairs.

  He blocked her path a moment. “I’m not enjoying this,” he said. “I don’t like hurting you. That’s not what this is about, Cheri, but you’re in a dangerous place. You don’t have the luxury of wallowing in self-pity.”

  She agreed that she needed to knock it off, and she was scared out of her mind that maybe she couldn’t, but she was also sick of his interfering and treating her like a child. “That’s right, and you’re the guy who’s gonna see to all of that, right? You’re the handsome knight on the shiny motorcycle. When you aren’t saving me from muggers in the metro or sleazy contractors who take advantage of me, you’re saving me from the bottle. You, the almighty Thomas Graham, ex-convict, are gonna see to it that I’m saved once and for all.”

  Thomas, unmoved, just stood there glaring at her, as solid as an oak tree. “What’s it gonna be?” he asked.

  “Don’t you have a girlfriend waiting for you, Mr. Graham?” she snapped.

  “I sure hope so,” he responded, his gaze melting into something temptingly emotional.

  She wasn’t sure what he meant by that, as she was still intoxicated and very confused. Part of her thought he was talking about her, but she was sure that was only delusional, wishful thinking. “I am not an alcoholic,” she insisted.

  “Go take your shower. I’ll check in on you later,” he answered, then quickly snatched her purse and keys from the table where she’d left him.

  “I hate you,” she said.

  He just shook his head and smiled, as if he knew better.

  Sighing, Cheri trudged up the stairs. Maybe he’s right. Maybe I don’t hate him, but I sure as hell wish I could!

  Chapter 4

  As it always seemed to do as of late, when the sting wore off and she felt even the slightest bit better, the strong craving to go out and be with other people called Cheri’s name. At first, she resisted the urge to go to the bar. Instead, she showered, relaxed, ate, and tried resting again. When there wasn’t anything left to do in the day, nothing more she could add to the routine, she grew antsy. Even though she needed to, she didn’t feel like looking for a job. “There’s always tomorrow,” she reasoned. “First thing in the morning.”

  Thomas had taken her purse and keys, and Cheri let him do so, let him think he was leaving her stranded, with no access to money or transportation. What he didn’t realize was that she had a duplicate ID, an extra set of keys, and even a second metro card. She didn’t need a car in the city anyway, because there was a dive on every corner; drinks were not at all hard to come by, even on foot. To avoid his prying eyes, she felt she had to go downtown, to a part of D.C. he wouldn’t expect her to visit. That would require public transportation.

  Her mind completely forgot what it was like to wake up in the dark on the front lawn, and she dismissed the thought purposely, as simply a result of not knowing her limits. This time I’ll control it, she told herself. I’ll prove to myself and to Thomas that I’m not just some lush, a pathetic drunk. I don’t need his interference to behave.

  She dressed up slightly, blew out her hair, and applied some makeup in an effort to at least feel normal, even as she struggled with the heavy fog that loomed in her mind. As her hangover was clearing, her thoughts still felt scattered, and it was a struggle to stay on track. It sort of felt good to get herself together to go out, as if she’d somehow put her troubled drinking days behind her.

  Cheri walked out the door and stopped at the bank and withdrew some cash at the teller, explaining she’d left her purse at a friend’s and was taking a cab to pick it up. Then she made her way to a suitable place. She only made it as far as sitting at the bar, where she soaked in the slurred compliments of men around her, before she felt a tap on her shoulder. She rolled her eyes, expecting to spot Thomas, and her head instantly filled with thoughts of him. “Shouldn’t you be on a job site somewhere, Mr. Foreman? Why are you always t
rying to supervise me instead of your crew?” she said without turning to look.

  “Cheri Holt?” asked a woman.

  A bit startled, Chery turned and looked at the thin brunette in the business suit, quite like the kind she used to wear when she had a job. “Yeah, that’s me. Why?” she asked bluntly.

  The woman handed her a piece of paper. “You’ve been served,” she said, then pivoted on the balls of her feet and walked away.

  Cheri looked down at the subpoena, and her memory was instantly assaulted with dark recollections of many months prior, when the would-be mugger who tried to rob her in the metro station turned the tables on her and tried to sue her for his alleged false imprisonment. All eyes at the bar seemed to be on her as she quickly read over the document. Considering that she’d spent many years as a paralegal, the jargon didn’t baffle her; even with all the ‘wheretofores’.

  It was clear that she was being sued again, this time by Thomas Graham himself.

  Too angry to drink, and feeling foolish for bothering to get all prettied up for a night out, she felt physically ill. The moment was overwhelmingly humiliating, and she wanted to yell at all the drunks surrounding her to stop staring, but instead she just rushed out, subpoena in hand, and hailed a cab.

  As soon as she slid into the seat of the taxi, she pulled out her phone and called Thomas. “You actually did it, didn’t you?” she hissed. “How dare you? I can’t believe you—”

  “We had a deal, Cheri, and you didn’t keep your end of the bargain,” he said in a calm tone that unnerved her all the more. “You knew the consequences.”

  “Well, I… screw you, Thomas! Seriously!” she spat, drawing a strange look from the cabbie in the rear-view mirror.

  The cab driver said nothing and just shook his head, then continued to her requested destination.

  Cheri hung up the phone, seething, as she dug a twenty-dollar bill out of her purse to give to the driver. “Keep the change, mister,” she said when he pulled over a few minutes later, even though it was far too much for the fare for such a short distance to Thomas’s office. The closer Cheri marched to the front door of the trailer, the more her rage seemed to find new life.